Tuesday, December 04, 2007

i love lesbians and other random thoughts

It is still too fucking cold. I hate this damp chill. The contrast between the warmth and sun of Mexico and this horror is unbearable.

Coming home to little dogs is truly one of the greatest pleasures of life.

Finding the aloof and dignified cat in a very affectionate state is sweet.

Folks I met from Canada and Mexico and Panama and Peru and England and France also think Bush is a cretin and a thug. Not big news, but comforting. I asked everyone to have their countries send well armed covert ops people to rescue us.

I love lesbians! I found myself in need of help before we departed Mazatlan. In just an instant of looking around the terminal for assistance, I was suddenly surrounded by a trio of helpful gals who conspired to rescue me with a peso. Sweet, funny, no nonsense middle-aged dykes who left me feeling a bit melancholy for my activist years in the women’s movement.

Mexican butter rocks. And coconut LaLa yogurt is fantastic.

There is nothing quite like freshly caught shrimp, quickly boiled and iced down and served with a tongue-burning cocktail sauce thick with horseradish. Nothing.

No matter how nice the accommodations, hotel beds suck.

The average American we encountered in Mexico well deserves the pejorative gabacho. What a bunch of clowns: so rude, obnoxious, cheap, condescending.

Men who grow wide expanses of pubic hair should not wear teensy thongs on the beach unless they’re willing to wax. Or at least trim. Ick.

Snorkeling in rough water can cause a buoyant woman to crash hard into a rocky shore where escape entails a heroic struggle between incoming waves and undertow. To avoid broken bones and drowning, the only solution is swimming like hell under water, thus risking a close encounter with razor sharp coral. That the coral is razor sharp is evidenced by the gouges across my formerly pristine tummy. I am now waiting to see if the legend proves true: that coral will sprout from my wounds.

I was born to live a life of leisure. I don't know how I ended up with this one.

Glad you are back and feeling feisty. Born to a life of leisure? I can so get behind that, but I'm afraid it isn't really true in my case. My leisure would end up sprouting into twelve new all encompassing "hobbies", which all demand my IMMEDIATE attention. Something tells me you would be the same way, "idle hands..." Hope you don't get that horrible degenerative disease caused by blood contact with coral...

eric! yes! i thought of you and your recent cruise . . . maybe next year for exploring the entire western coast of mexico.

bj :-) do men ever get those? brazilians, i mean? the very thought makes me want to screech.

mOOnchild . . . yup, so awful to watch folks' expressions as i admit to being not only from the US but from a red state. (please someone, send a team to save us!)

DL, EG . . . the "girls" :-) were absolutely charming. i remember when a whole passel of mature lesbians appeared in my AA home group. it was heaven. it just felt like having moms everywhere.

tater: yup, i'd be a busy leisurely person for certain. but in a good way and unfrenzied, unlike the day to day hassle of work. i swear i'm going to shoot the next asshole who tells me "i could never retire, i don't know what i would dooooooo with myself." such a waste. happily, my tummy is healing nicely and i don't expect horns of coral to sprout, nor any horrible degenerative disease, funny boy.

eric: they are THE best. i think you are right, they're the chosen ones and absolutely dandy.

Glad the vacation was a good one - just think you can now reveal your deep sea diving scars on festive family occassions.

As to the boorish Americans - when we lived in Mexico City we'd head down to Accapulco et al for R & R and only speak Spanish - never English or French in case someone mistook us for boorish Canadian tourists. Afraid its just like Noel Coward said: Why do the wrong people travel, while the right people stay back home?

The Kindness of Lesbians - sort of sounds like one of those pulp fiction novels from the '50s.

kamrin, i think we all need a posse of lesbians to guide us. and yes, should i sprout coral from my wounds, i'll expose them here for all the world to see :-)

willym, i suffer from justifiable low country-esteem. i don't think there are any traveling boors like those from the US, and it seems that all of the canucks i met were charming. a small sampling, of course, colored by my own hatred of my government i'm sure. i'll be by shortly to see how little reesie is doing. dogs :-)

I once broke down on a dark highway in the wee hours of the night (this was WAY pre cell phones) and was waving my arms for help and planning to run and lock myself in the car if a sicko stopped. And who pulled over to save me? A solid, sensible, middle-aged lesbian who was heading out to go fishing before work. My god, I was happy to see that woman. Could have married her on the spot. And you do feel so safe, because not only will they lend a hand, they'll kick anyone's ass who bothers you.

totegirl, i just don't know! why is it? and those who have those lives of leisure just don't appreciate it as much as we would.

hi dustygirl! i'm working on something for sirens :-) smooches.

rodger ~ i do feel great. i had no idea. they're definitely coke drinkers ~ mike ran them out of pepsi in the first 24 hours. real sugar? damn. and thank you.

elizabeth ~ what a great story. :-)

ewe: maybe so :-) i actually practiced the art of art on the beach, sketching for the first time in 30 years. sad, but fun.

lsl, thanks cupcake. you are my travel inspiration.

michael: 22. i would die. it's something horrid like 40 here this morning and it is misery. and yes, i'm a fan of pubic hair, just not with a little bit of thong cloth running right up the middle of it. that made it icky, somehow.